Delayed Conversations
by TdeAlba
Summary: A wee bit of JohnNatalie angst mostly born out of my frustration with the show of late. Natalie needs to talk to John about something, but he's too wrapped up in the case at the moment.


John woke up early. This was nothing unusual; he couldn't remember the last time he'd slept until his alarm. Sometimes he let himself linger in bed until it went off, indulging in the warmth of Natalie's body nestled against him. Lately, however, he'd been affording himself this luxury less and less, rising immediately and plunging back into the case.

Today, however, it wasn't a decision for him to make. Natalie was already out of bed. He could hear the shower running which explained where she'd gone but not why. She wasn't normally an early riser and almost never woke before him.

He slipped on the sweats he'd left crumpled beside the bed the night before, turned on the coffee maker and waited for her to emerge from the bathroom. When she came out a few minutes later her bathrobe draped over her warm pink skin she looked less than surprised to see him up.

"You're up early," he observed.

"Couldn't sleep," she said.

"I know the feeling," he said rubbing his eyes.

She walked closer to him and bent to kiss his forehead. "Well since we're both up you want to go get some breakfast somewhere?"

What he really wanted to do was peel that robe off her shoulders and spend a little more time not sleeping in bed with her but he needed to stay focused. He shook his head, "I need to get down to the station."

She nodded. She looked disappointed but like she'd expected this answer. As he rose to make his way to the shower she poured herself a cup of coffee, not meeting his eyes again.

They rode to work together in silence. This was unusual; while neither of them was a morning person Natalie was normally bothered by silence and would spend the car ride chattering about classes or her niece or something. Today the silence was so heavy it started to bother him. As they pulled into the parking lot he finally asked, "Is something wrong?"

"Besides the fact that the sociopath who murdered your father is still on the loose and seems to be targeting my family?" she asked raising an eyebrow.

"You're really quiet this morning," he said, "I just wondered-"

"Do I need an excuse to be quiet?" she asked defensively.

He was somewhat taken aback by her response. "Well when I clam up you tend to pester me until I give in so-"

"Sorry," she mumbled, "I didn't mean to snap."

"So you want to tell me what's going on?" he asked.

She looked at him for a long moment before answering, as if she were trying to decide what answer to give. "Nothing," she said finally, "I'm just tired and stressed."

"Yeah, I guess we all are," he said with a sigh climbing out of the car.

A few hours later he was completely absorbed in the case, Natalie's unusual behavior that morning pushed out of his mind, when she wandered into his office. "Hey," she said tentatively.

"Hey," he said barely glancing up from the photos and papers on his desk.

"Um… can I talk to you for a minute?" she asked. She seemed really uneasy about this, whatever it was.

"I'm kind of in the middle of something," he said, "can it wait till tonight?"

Natalie almost laughed at his question; he knew as well as she did that there wouldn't be anytime for discussion tonight either. "It's kind of important," she said.

"Okay," he said glancing at his watch, "as long as you can make it quick."

Natalie took some hesitant steps toward him but just as she opened her mouth to speak his cell phone rang. He looked at the caller ID. "It's Blair," he said, "I really need to take this—it's about Truman."

"Right," Natalie said quietly turning around. She was out of his office by the time he had the phone opened and he made a mental note to try and talk to her later, whenever he found a moment. The phone call had probably irritated her but he knew she knew how important this case was. She'd understand.

It was after lunch, or rather after lunchtime, because he hadn't stopped to eat, before he saw her again. By that time his nerves were even more frayed than usual; he'd just gotten word that a promising lead on where Spencer might have stashed the murder weapon had just come up empty. He was hardly in a mood for any sort of complex conversation. And, of course, that was the moment she chose to walk in.

"What's up?" he said aware he probably sounded a little short.

Natalie was not intimidated by this but walked slowly to the front of his desk, twisting her hands nervously. "Well… I have to tell you something," she said hesitantly, "and I'm not sure how you're going to take it."

Well that didn't bode well. Past experience sprang to mind and before he could check himself he groaned, "What did you do this time?"

Blinking at him in shock she said, "You just assume I did something. Without me saying anything you jump to the conclusion that-"

"Tell me I'm wrong," he challenged her, "Tell me whatever this is it isn't about you getting yourself into some situation where you're over your head."

"Sort of," she said still shaking her head in disbelief, "but it's not just my-"

"So what is it this time?" he pressed. "Vincent Jones again? Or did you find a different criminal to offer favors to in exchange for information?"

Natalie's demeanor had shifted completely from anxious to furious. "You know what?" she spat, "Never mind!" Spinning on her heel much more quickly than she had the last time she stormed from the room.

"Natalie!" he called out in exasperation hoping to stop her. When that clearly didn't work he didn't rise from his chair. She'd be back and until she was he had plenty of things to fill his time with. Besides, he was irritated by her running away from the conversation rather than admitting to whatever it was she'd done as well as by the certainty that Natalie had once again gotten involved where she shouldn't have.

Natalie stormed from the Police Station, making it through the door just before the tears started streaming down her face. She walked quickly down the sidewalk with no real destination in mind, just the need to put as much distance between herself and John as possible. The tears clouded her vision and between that and her distracted mental state she collided with someone.

"Watch where you're going," she ordered irritably as she started to continue on her flight.

"Natalie?" a voice asked and it was only then that she looked to see who it was. Michael McBain. Of course she'd run into his brother right now. That just seemed to be her luck.

"Sorry," she mumbled.

Michael smiled at her sympathetically. "Am I safe in guessing my brother's responsible for this mood?"

"Who else?" she said with a shrug trying to dab away her tears.

"What did he do now?" he asked.

"I don't want to talk about it," she said.

"Well it looks like you need to talk to someone," Michael said, "and Lord knows Johnny's no good at it, so if you need a sympathetic ear…"

And before she could stop herself the whole story came pouring out. What had kept her up the last couple nights and John's behavior when she tried to broach the subject. When she finished Michael nodded seriously and said, "But you _are_ going to talk to him?"

"I don't know," she said, "I certainly don't feel like talking to him right now."

"Natalie-" Michael began but she held up a hand to cut him off.

"Of course I'm going to tell him," she said, "I just… I'm so mad at him right now."

"Well you should probably let him know that too," Michael said.

"Oh I will," she said forcing a smile, "he's the one who has trouble showing emotion, remember? Not me."

Sometime after 9:00 John felt like his brain had stopped working. Bo and Hugh had gone home hours ago but he'd stayed, feeling like there was some clue right in front of him he was missing somehow. He hadn't seen Natalie since she stormed out earlier and he wondered if his determination to stay at work was partially to avoid the argument he suspected was waiting for him at home. When he heard someone come into his office he looked up expecting to see her but was greeted instead by his brother's face.

"Hey Johnny," Michael said in an uneasy tone reminiscent of the one Natalie had used earlier.

"Hey," John said, "Everything okay?"

"With me?" Michael asked, "Yeah I'm fine. I just… wanted to see if Natalie had talked to you yet."

"About what?" he asked.

"That's a 'no'," Michael said, "'cause if she had you wouldn't be asking."

"Okay what's this all about?" he asked slamming a hand down on his desk harder than he meant to. Clearly Michael already knew about whatever Natalie had said she needed to tell him and it irked him that she would tell him first.

"You need to talk to Natalie," Michael said.

"Well I tried," he said, "but she stormed out of here."

Choosing not to bring up what he'd heard about why she stormed out Michael instead asked, "Johnny, did it ever occur to you to go after her?"

"Is that what she wanted me to do?" John asked. "Was that some sort of juvenile stunt to see if I'd follow?"

"No," Michael said, "it wasn't what she wanted you to do. She wanted you to listen to her in the first place when she said you needed to talk. And she left because she was too pissed to look at you and frankly I understand."

"I'm a little caught up in this case," John said trying to justify his behavior, "but she knows that and I think it's understandable. This is my father we're talking about."

"He was my father too," Michael said, "But that doesn't mean that if Marcie needed me I wouldn't be there for her."

"Natalie's tough," he said as much to himself as to Michael, "She doesn't need me."

"She does right now," Michael pressed, "and you're gonna feel like an ass when you find out what's going on. Trust me bro—you need to go find her."

John was quiet a moment and then asked, "You know where she is?"

"No," Michael said shaking his head, "but you're a pretty good detective, I bet you can find her."

He found her in the first place he looked—on the roof of the hotel. She stood there staring off at the lights, a damp wad of tissue in her hand. She looked so hurt and upset he instantly wanted to wrap his arms around her but her stance indicated he'd better keep his distance for a moment.

"So…" he began awkwardly, "Michael said you needed to talk to me."

"_I_ said I needed to talk to you," she reminded him.

"Right," he conceded, "sorry about that. I guess sometimes I need to get hit over the head."

"I'd really like to right now," she muttered under her breath.

"So what did you need to talk to me about?"

"It doesn't matter," she said softly.

"Natalie," he said insistently but gently, "I said I'm sorry about earlier."

"I believe you," she said.

"So what's going on?"

"I told you," she said, "it doesn't matter anymore."

"Michael didn't seem to think so," he said.

"Things have changed since I talked to Michael," she said, "It was a false alarm."

"What are you talking about?" he asked blankly.

She turned to face him for the first time, "Up until about half an hour ago I thought I might be pregnant."

He stared at her breathlessly as her behavior over the past day began to make sense and he realized how awful his own had been in context. "But you're not?" he verified.

She shook her head. "I was over a week late. Which I never am. I should have just taken a test but I was just so scared and I wasn't ready to know for sure. Because I didn't know how I'd feel about it if I was and how you'd feel about it… but like I said, it doesn't matter because it turns out I was just late. Better late than never I guess." She tried unsuccessfully to force a smile.

No matter how many times she repeated the phrase "it doesn't matter" they both knew that it did. And as much as he didn't want to, he knew they needed to talk this through. "So how _do_ you feel about it?" he asked.

She bit her lip. "Relieved."

"Relieved?" He was surprised; they'd never really talked about it but he'd always figured Natalie was the type who wanted children.

"John, if I learned anything today it's that you and I are in no way ready to be parents."

He looked at the ground. She was absolutely right, considering his behavior, not just today but for a while now. "Is that…" he didn't know how to phrase his next question, "is that something that you want?"

"Not necessarily right away," she said, "but yeah, I always thought… but I don't want to raise a child by myself, and if I had one with you right now that's what would happen."

"Natalie," he said hurt by her accusation, "I would never-"

"I know you wouldn't walk away from us," she said, "but I got a glimpse of what it would be like today. And I'm not sure your present or future is ever going to matter as much to you as the past."

"I'm sorry," he said, "I know I'm wrapped up in this case, but it's not going to last forever."

"It's lasted twenty-five years John," she pointed out, "and I'm not saying you should let it go or stop working on it but I think we're past where you can count on it being solved tomorrow."

"Well what am I supposed to do?" he asked.

"I don't know," she said, "but I know that your father's last words were about you. His last thoughts were about his family. I think he'd want you to let yourself have one too. I'm not saying tomorrow for that either, but…"

"I'm really sorry about today," he said, "I'm sorry I wasn't there for you. If I had known what was going on-"

"There's no way you could have," she said.

"For what it's worth," he said, "I always figured I'd have a family, someday. And for a while now, I always figured when it happened it would be with you."

"Well I'm telling you right now John," she said, "that's not going to happen until you get through all this and figure some things out. And I don't just mean your father's case."

"I'm trying," he said.

"I know you are," she said dabbing her eyes again. He reached out and put an arm around her but she quickly ducked out from under it.

"I'm going downstairs," she said, "I'm tired. Didn't sleep much last night."

He heard the door close behind her and wondered if this was another one of those moments when he should follow her or if she needed some time alone with her thoughts. Looking out at the stars it occurred to him exactly how much time he'd been spending alone with his thoughts, even when she was right beside him. And it occurred to him that if he were that upset she'd never leave him alone. Taking a deep breath he turned and followed her downstairs.

Fin.


End file.
